


Dream

by Nana_41175



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: A Bit Of Fluff In The End, Anal Sex, Dominant!Q, James having a good dream indeed, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Romance, Submissive!Bond, slight BDSM themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:20:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26195533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nana_41175/pseuds/Nana_41175
Summary: After a tiring mission, Bond dreams of sweet submission. A one-shot written for Aliensdoodles' fantastic 00Q art!
Relationships: Q/James Bond
Comments: 18
Kudos: 117





	Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aliensundermybed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliensundermybed/gifts).



**Author's Notes:** This one-shot would not have come into being without **Aliensdoodles'** fantastic and HOT 00Q art! Thank you sooo much, Alien, for your talent, kindness and generosity! I am posting the sfw pics here, but please visit [Alien's twitter account](https://twitter.com/Dramaticatart) for all the glorious nsfw pics [here](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EgaA5AIU0AA_zmo?format=jpg&name=4096x4096), [here](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EgaA7AEVoAA8jXS?format=jpg&name=4096x4096) , [here](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EgiiPHYVoAAx8H9?format=jpg&name=4096x4096) and [here](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EgiiRARUcAE2HiP?format=jpg&name=4096x4096). Do give her all the love and thanks, folks!

Leave a comment for the Muse, if you like, and we hope you enjoy!

* * *

Darkness, all around.

Being blindfolded was not the most ideal scenario to wake up to, but Bond had been through enough episodes to know what to do.

He stayed stock-still for a moment, his breathing calm and even as he assessed his situation. He lay, curled on his side, on a cold, hard floor. His hands were tied behind his back but his legs were free. Carefully, he tested his limbs one by one. All in working order. He wasn’t in any pain, though he guessed he’d been out for a while.

Where was he? What had he been doing before this? He had no idea. No idea at all. Which was very strange. There was no headache, no body pains, which meant he’d not been taken down during a brutal physical fight. Had he been knocked out with a spiked drink or the shot of a dart? That would have been bloody careless of him.

He carefully tested the bindings to his hands and figured he could work his way out of them. He was in the process of doing so when he heard a door open a few feet away and footsteps reverberating on the smooth marble floor.

There were voices, echoes which gradually grew more distinct as the people came nearer. Bond willed his body to stay lax in its fetal position, buying himself more time as he worked out what he could of his captors.

“Oh, for god’s sake,” came a voice, posh and imperious, and so very familiar. “Must we overdo ourselves with the drama? Take the blindfold off him immediately.”

 _But it couldn’t be,_ thought Bond, freezing in place as he felt rough hands on him, pulling him up to a sitting position.

Could it?

It couldn’t be _him._

The blindfold was off him in an instant and he stared, blinking and dazed, at the slim figure standing in front of him.

“Q,” he said. His voice came out as if in slow motion, dragging over the single letter. He was still in shock, after all.

Q gave him a single cursory flick before he continued, “the bindings, too.”

Bond felt the ropes loosen around his wrists, seeming to melt away, just like the people standing behind him. He looked around and there was nobody there. Relief made his entire body sag.

He ought to wonder more about the peculiarity of the situation, but then he chanced to look down at himself and discovered that he was kneeling there, buck naked.

“James,” Q said, snapping him out of his bemused state.

He looked up, eyes wide, as his lover came slowly forward to stand right before him.

 _Yes,_ he thought. His beloved.

“Q,” he said again, his entire body bowed and his hands limp before him in supplication. “Oh god, Q.”

“You have no idea,” said Q, shaking his head, “just how much trouble you put me through to get you back.”

Bond should have felt surprise. Instead, he relaxed further, exhaling a breath as he let the words— uttered in that tone, by that voice— roll over him, like a caress. He could feel himself stirring, his body growing eager by the minute. The previous unpleasantness melted away from him as if it were nothing. Sheer nonsense.

This. This was what mattered.

“You’ve been gone for a long time, and I had to pull so many strings just to bring you back in one piece,” murmured Q as he reached down to slide a hand over the side of Bond’s face. “How do you plan to make it up to me, James?”

Bond let out a sigh, deep and throaty. “Whatever you desire,” he said. “I am your slave.”

He watched Q’s red, expressive mouth quirk in amusement, a brief ripple of emotion on that otherwise bland, impassive face.

“Go on, then,” urged Q, almost kindly. “Touch yourself. You’ve been aching to, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Bond agreed as he reached down to curl a broad hand around his hardening cock.

 _God,_ it felt good. So nice. So right.

“Slowly,” commanded Q as he watched Bond jerk at himself, his strokes quickening as his body heated up. In contrast, Q remained cool, almost detached. He was still dressed as if for work, in a lavender shirt and dark trousers, neatly pressed.

“We don’t want you coming so soon,” Q continued, his hand still gentle against the side of Bond’s face. His green eyes, up close, were almost tender as he watched the helpless pleasure flooding Bond.

“I haven’t come in ages,” Bond confessed.

Q hummed. “Not even when you were touching yourself?”

“I didn’t…” Bond swallowed as he gave himself a slow, tight squeeze. Bloody Christ. So _good._

“Why not?” Q asked, brows furrowed.

“Not without you…”

“Ah, so touchingly loyal,” Q murmured. “Well then, you ought to be rewarded.”

Bond nodded eagerly as Q tilted his head further up. He opened his lips in anticipation as Q worked the zip of his trousers down. Bond’s eyes drifted closed the moment he felt that wet, velvety tip teasing his bottom lip.

Yes, this.

This, he knew by heart— the art of pleasing his beloved.

He let the tip of his tongue dart out to taste the head of that slender cock, gladness welling inside him as he managed to pull a deep sigh of pleasure from Q.

This was only the beginning.

He let his tongue grow bold, sliding roughly against the underside of Q’s cock and around it for a few, brief swirls before licking away the moisture gathering at the tip. Except for his tongue, he was not touching Q anywhere else. He’d not been ordered to.

“Good boy,” praised Q, burying a hand into Bond's hair while he guided his cock with his other hand against the mouth that worshipped him. “Now, suck.”

Bond nestled the swollen head against the broad, flat bed of his warm tongue before he closed his lips around it, giving it a slow, thorough, leisurely suck. Q groaned, and Bond took that as tacit permission to continue taking in more and more of that hard length as he obeyed his lover.

Q allowed Bond to please himself as well, though Bond knew that his young lover could withhold his permission anytime. His Q was cruel and fickle like this, sometimes, and it spurred him on like nothing else could.

Bond stroked himself languidly, letting the excruciating pleasure build, taking care not to go too fast as he sucked and laved at the gorgeous cock of the man he loved, reveling in the knowledge that Q was doing this just for him.

In the end, it was all for him.

“There, that’s enough,” Q finally said as he pulled away from Bond. “Good boy, James.”

Bond watched Q as he licked his lips, his body now coated with a thin film of sweat from his exertions. His look was almost pleading as Q, smiling, touched his mouth with light fingers before running his thumb on the sheen of saliva over his upper lip.

“Good boys deserve so much more than being on their knees on cold, hard floors,” Q said almost contemplatively. “On the bed, then.”

Bond stood, knees protesting quietly, having been locked into position for so long. As it turned out, there was a bed behind them. He could not bring himself to wonder about these details. He only knew he had to get himself there.

He lay down on the soft, silky covers, tucking his hands behind his head as he spread his body wide open for his lover to see. Q remained infuriatingly calm as he approached, hands in the pockets of his impeccable trousers, his smile wry. However, there was no doubting the possessive look in that usually mild gaze. The sight of this man, still fully clothed in contrast to his nakedness, was more arousing than anything Bond could imagine.

“You’re so hot, Bond,” said Q in a voice that was anything but heated, “but I suppose you already know that. You hear that all the time during missions, so it’s probably not something I ought to say.”

“Please, sir,” said Bond when Q fell silent, the moment stretching out as he gazed dispassionately at Bond’s heaving body, his hard, twitching cock.

Q’s roving eyes settled back on Bond’s face. He nodded, seemingly satsfied. “On your knees then, James.”

Bond rolled smoothly onto his knees, his head lowered in between his shoulders as he felt the mattress dip behind him. Heart pounding, he felt Q’s nimble hands on his arse, spreading his cheeks open and, _finally,_ there was the sure touch of an authoritative tongue on the tightly furled rim of muscle that guarded the entrance to his body.

 _"Yes."_ Bond jerked underneath the ministrations of that skilled mouth, a half-curse on his lips. His body was lighting up like an instrument in a maestro’s hands. He could feel himself unfolding beautifully at the touch of this man’s mouth, his hands. Only this man.

“So loose already,” murmured Q, his voice still quiet, almost reverent, as he gazed down at his handiwork: the glisten of wetness on Bond’s arse as he stretched Bond open with his thumb. “So eager.”

Bond let out a low grunt, almost a growl, as he felt lubed fingers sliding into him, expertly opening him up with precise, efficient movements.

“Please,” Bond gritted out, having reached the end of his patience as he rutted against Q’s hold.

“Oh, very well,” said Q, withdrawing briefly as he did away with his trousers. “I shan’t keep you waiting much longer.”

He mounted Bond, his lavender shirt undone and open to ghost over Bond’s back while he took his time, teasingly rubbing his erection over Bond’s eager rim.

Q rubbed once, twice, before gradually slipping his cock into Bond. Bond groaned, deep and shameless.

“You’re not going to come already, are you?” Q said, reveling in the way Bond’s muscles clenched around him as he slowly sank in to the hilt.

“I…won’t last long,” Bond confessed, head tilting back as Q began to thrust, hard.

“Wait for me, there’s a good boy,” said Q as he quickly established a pounding rhythm, just the way James liked. “Just a few moments more.”

Bond groaned as he lay flat on his stomach, hands fisted in the sheets before him. He hitched his arse up to meet Q’s thrusts, greedily squeezing at him from within so that Q’s rhythm began to stutter.

“Yes…just like that, James,” panted Q, resting his head against Bond’s, his eyes squeezing shut in concentration as he pistoned into Bond’s body, their movements marvelously well-coordinated as they edged closer to the brink.

“Coming,” Bond warned. “Darling, I’m coming.”

“Then come. You know I’ll take care of you, love,” promised Q roughly against his ear, his movements breaking up as they crashed headlong into orgasm. “There. Oh, there, _James!”_

Bond felt Q fill him with warm release as he cried out and shuddered, his body throbbing and wonderfully alive underneath his lover’s sheltering weight.

Afterward, he had to cover his face, awash in amused, embarrassed pleasure as Q murmured his lavish praises, “Oh, look at how well you did, James. I’d call this a mission well done.”

Q shifted slightly, withdrawing from Bond’s body just a bit. Feeling thoroughly, blissfully owned, Bond felt the trickle of come leaking out of him as Q settled down once more on his back. Draped over him like a giant, lazy cat, he could hear the smile of satisfaction in Q’s voice and feel the tenderness as Q reached down to give him a proper kiss on the mouth, warm and languid and sweet, followed by a chaste kiss on the cheek.

At that moment, Bond knew without being told that he was very deeply loved.

* * *

Q looked up from his book as Bond, fast asleep, gave a twitch beside him.

They were in bed, after Q had tucked Bond in more than three hours ago. The poor thing was just about as done in as he’d seen him, post-mission fatigue piling on with jetlag after arriving from Korea.

Curious, Q peered closely at Bond’s face. He’d been so still all this time, sleeping the sleep of the dead, with his hands folded neatly on top of his chest. Yet he seemed to be having a good dream, to judge from his slightly smiling, drooling mouth. His face was flushed as he gave another small twitch, a sound that was like an incomprehensible mutter leaving his throat.

_Awww,_ thought Q, smiling as he gazed fondly at his silly boyfriend, back at last after two weeks away. _I wonder what he’s dreaming about…_

After a moment, he leaned down to give Bond a chaste peck on the cheek.

_I love you, James._


End file.
